


Wishful Beginnings

by Lilly_White



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 18:08:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1697627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilly_White/pseuds/Lilly_White
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Old fic] Aeris' thought processes start glitching - as they would, when you're impaled on a 6-foot sword.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wishful Beginnings

Eyes like glass, revolving, glinting in the firelight. Pulsating red, dripping over the natural green web of colour.

Can you remember when we were sane? Can you remember?

It’s on the borders of my mind. That feeling… the feeling of enjoying the simplicities of our existences, of shoving away all negativity without a second thought. Every moment, a celebration. And for what? For being alive? Well, of course. What else can possibly be so passionately celebrated?

Do you remember how it felt, to be glad to be alive? I wish I didn’t. Because it’s filling my head now, just as surely as your claw is filling my heart.

The exhilaration bucks against my heart as it struggles to express itself despite the foreign element piercing through it; it’s like all that I’ve ever felt is being retraced, like the melody of a hand-cranked music box played backwards – the pin patterns are tearing through me, reverse tune, reverse mechanism. I can feel it lurching, leaping against my ribs, shivering as it fights to keep the vital rhythm. I know fingers can remember tunes. I didn’t realize the heart could remember them, too. My own tune isn’t so long to remember, though… this is a ridiculous age to die.

I wonder what tune your own heart sings as you stand behind me. I can almost hear the insanity that it hisses, murmurs, like an ever-turning glass harmonica along which you would slide your blood-soaked fingers. Perhaps glass resounds better when rubbed with blood rather than with water? It certainly sounds very pure now, as I let myself fall back against your chest, an ear against your heart, against that hypnotic melody…

Your blade stirs and I feel it dragging away my breath as you languorously pull it out, six feet of cold, cold metal hissing against my spine as it leaves my body. My heart- it’s stopped its broken song. But it’s alright. It wasn’t very pleasant to listen to. Your arm slips around me, just under my shoulder blades, and black invades my vision; you’re kneeling next to me. Metal under my cheek; numbness everywhere else.

Do you remember… when… we were sane?... when it didn’t matter … who was the last? We should’ve just raised our glasses… to our ancestors… and left it at that. It’s probably just the way things should end, though… your mother decimated my people. It’s only logical that I should… be bleeding all over your chest, and not the other way around. But don’t you think the irony in our meeting… is delicious?

Look at me… you devil’s messiah.

How fitting that you should be… my end… and I yours.

My beloved negative. What a shame…

…we had… such…

… _wishful beginnings_ …


End file.
